


Things You Said After You Kissed Me

by faerymorstan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marylock - Freeform, National Poetry Writing Month, Poetry, Sestina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerymorstan/pseuds/faerymorstan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>from a prompt from violsva: marylock, things you said after you kissed me</p>
    </blockquote>





	Things You Said After You Kissed Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Violsva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/gifts).



> from a prompt from violsva: marylock, things you said after you kissed me

Is there any risk

you’ll hurt the baby (none), will I lie

to you (not lightly), do I miss

the steady  _you’re mine_  of John’s touch

(with all my heart), do I have a name

for the feel of our bare

 

skins touching (grief), our bare

hands twined in bed (a risk

we take and take), can you name

the baby ( _Sherlock_ ), can you lie

here just to feel the touch

of my back to your back, to miss

 

John and touch me and know I miss

what you miss (yes), can I live with the bare

fact that everyone I touch—

my husband our child my— _you_ —is at risk

because once upon a time I told a lie

that became a life that became a name

 

I wore that wasn’t mine, a name

a dead girl wouldn’t miss

for a life that wouldn’t be a lie:

a nurse, a wife, a mother who could bare

her secrets, her soul, and never risk

a loss, who had no past, whose touch

 

was never stained with blood (I touch

your lips, hear bullets when I say your name,

tell you _I can’t live with the risk_

_but neither can I die—I’ve tried—I miss_

_the target every time_.) You strip me bare

and tell me _You are not a lie_ ,

 

tangle your hands in my hair when I lie

beside you in the bed you rarely share, touch

me as though I have never felt the bare

metal of a trigger or spoken the name

of a person and made a corpse. _You miss_

 _him_ , you say. You move beneath me. _You’re a risk_

_he’ll return to_. Your bare chest is a scar.  _Y_ _ou could lie_

 _and lie and he’d forgive you_. I touch your lips and risk the truth:

 _You have, and he did._  You come. You say the name we miss.


End file.
